After Rose
by Milli Moi
Summary: Pain, a newborn and barefoot dancing in the early morning


"Hermione?" Ron's voice penetrated her thoughts as she shuffled around the stone floor of the cottage kitchen. She could hear the tiredness in his voice and felt automatically guilty. It was 4:37am when she had placed Rose back in her cradle and headed for the kitchen to make tea. She wasn't tired, she was sore. It was understandable to be sore – you would expect that from most people who had not long given birth. Hermione hadn't only given birth recently, she had been in active labour for two days before being given an emergency caesarean. She had to remember that several layers of strong muscle had been sliced through in order for her baby to arrive.

Of course, she had known she had been pregnant, she had awaited the birth for the whole forty weeks. As soon as she had passed the twenty week mark there was no one who could have doubted she was expecting. She had been big but neat, all the added weight had formed in a perfect ball in front of her, making it impossible for her to see her legs, let alone her feet by the end.

Now her stomach looked like a bouncy castle when they disconnected the air pump, but hadn't squeezed it all out yet. She was semi-deflated; and felt it.

"Love?" Ron called once more, light from the tip of his wand appearing at the bottom of the stairs and the ball of light got slowly larger and brighter before it disappeared and the kitchen light switch flicked on making Hermione blink wildly in the bright light.

Ron sighed. He was stood in a pair of ill-fitting, fit-for-the-bin, boxers and grey slippers. His once bright orange Chudley Canons dressing gown had been slung lazily over him, covering his shoulders but leaving his chest bare.

He offered a hand to her, leading her gently over to the table and helping her lower into the chair. She had to hold her breath to sit. The pain through her abdomen wasn't sharp, it was an intense ache, similar to an everlasting muscle cramp. She was reminded of the time she had tried to do 200 sit-ups at primary school. The pain had lasted for days then, and she was sure it would last just as long if not longer this time.

Ron had winced with Hermione, hating to see her in this pain. She knew what he wanted to see, knew he had wanted to say it several times since the surgery. He would have told her that in St Mungo's this pain could have been avoided. However, he knew better, knew he shouldn't say anything when she had suffered so much.

There were a lot of things Hermione had got used to since learning she was a witch, fifteen years ago. There was a lot of things her family had learned and began to understand, yet the world of babies was something both Hermione and her Mum knew about in their own world. There had been little question for her when offered the chance between magical and muggle in order to give birth to her baby. She didn't regret it.

She did regret that she couldn't heal the wound with magic as a midwife would be going to her Mother's tomorrow morning to check the incision site. She knew this was hard for Ron too. He had been funny about blood and pain all the time she had known him but even more so after the Cruciatus curse. She didn't remember much about being under the influence of the curse – other than unimaginable pain – but she knew Ron had been inconsolable.

"Am I allowed to do anything?" Ron sighed, a tinge of anger in his voice.

"Ron, please. I know this isn't what you wanted it to be." She paused, sighing. There was no point getting into an argument now.

"There's a silvery package on the counter, with dimples in it? Can you pass it to me? And some water?"

Ron nodded once, bringing over the paracetamol. It didn't do much but it kept the pain under control a little more, kept it at a level where it was dull. The worst was when she had to move, the muscles under her skin stretching against the stitches.

Ron crossed his arms over his bare chest, standing beside her. He was such a, such a _man_ , in these situations. He didn't know how to show his emotions, how to deal with the mix of euphoria at their beautiful little girl and the angst over his wife's pain and exhaustion.

"It's ok," Hermione found herself saying, although she wasn't sure why.

"I mean, we have a baby. She's ours and she's going nowhere."

He began to grin and she almost laughed before remembering that it would be painful to do so.

"It's bloody mental, we've got a baby. A real baby, not someone else's that we've borrowed." He paused for a moment, coming closer to her and very gently hooking his thumb under her chin so she turned to meet his gaze.

"You were amazing, you were." He leaned over and very gently kissed her. It was the kind of kiss that is so soft, so tender that it made her feel warm all the way to her toes.

She smiled despite the pain and the exhaustion. This was what it was for, this was why she had gone through a long labour, an operation and the pain that followed. There was nothing like seeing this happiness in her husband.

She knew she mirrored the same delight, mirrored the love that seemed to be filling the room like the fumes of an Amortentia potion. They were a family now, they were the family they never thought they would be, through all the pain and loss they had known from teenagers and still knew through losing Artie, they had made it.

Ron very gently helped his wife from her chair and took her hand, leading her towards the back door. She paused and he seemed to read her mind, drawing his wand once more and pointing it at the ceiling above, making any noise from the cradle instantly louder.

"Ron" she giggled, feeling sixteen all of a sudden, but allowing him to lead her very carefully out onto the grass. "I'm not wearing any shoes!"

"Who cares."

He slipped his hand onto her waist and she her hand to his shoulder, leaning slightly into him, breathing in the scent that was simply him and him alone.

"Look," he began, leading her into a very slow and soft waltz-type sway, "The happiest night of my life this happened. We danced on the grass, under the moon with the light from the windows. That day's been replaced. We have a baby, a real baby. There's only one way we can make today better."

Hermione grinned into his shoulder, thumbing the edge of his dressing gown, debating whether to pull it off and lean against his skin. He inclined his head, his chin pressing down on the top of her messy curls.

Hermione felt her eyes close. This, this was unimaginable bliss. She had never expected to live this long – not after all they had been through with Harry, and to be here now, in the arms of the person she loved beyond what even she knew. To be able to hear the sounds of snuffles and wriggles of their new born in the cottage behind. There was nothing that could ever be better, ever feel more blissful. Neither of them were perfect, neither of them ever would be but together they had made something perfect, they had made Rose.

As they shuffled in a slow and uncoordinated dance under the moon and stars where the clouds were beginning to come into view as the sky brightened in the early morning light. They had changed in just one day, they had become a family. A family which was unbreakable, untouchable and full of the greatest power known to muggles and to magic: Love.


End file.
